The Other Way Around
by Verimol
Summary: Your father has come back from Hell and is cooking pancakes, your brother wants to kill you for spilling his coffee and the Angels have just made the worst mistake EVER. A tale where black is black and white is white... or, possibly, the other way around.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Not mine!**

**Prologue**

Dean took in his surroundings: a huge, dark palace reached out for the black sky; ruby-like blood spurted by an elaborated fountain; on the floor laid several torture devices that had seen better times. Dean studied them with great attention and then strode calmly towards the palace.

He silently contemplated its skeletal, twisted form and then nodded, satisfied.

"So... I'm back..." he murmured.

There was no mistake: that was definitely Hell.

Dean closed his eyes quietly. There was a cry.

"NO WAY!"

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	2. Chapter 2

Dean woke up with a start and frantically scanned the room: a battered old wardrobe laid in one corner and a lonely white chair draped with his clothes sat near his bed. That was pretty much all the room furniture.

Dean sighed, took a look at the alarm clock and started to get dressed.

- What a Hell of a dream- he muttered sarcastically – How surprising!-.

He got out in the long corridor and stared at the long row of white doors with disgust: they were all closed except for the one that leaded to Sam's bedroom. The bed was neatly made and the chair seemed about to crash under the amount of books.

A smile appeared on Dean's lips thinking how Sam had insisted they took this hunt.

"Come on, Dean! When was the last time we had some normal supernatural stuff to take care of without angelic or demonic interference? I made some research – a pile of documents appeared out of nowhere in his hand – this seems easy enough: things moving around, strange voices, shadows darker than usual... All in a very old house that's been left abandoned for a long time. The rent'll be cheap! It'll be like a holiday!"

They moved into the house and spent there the night: nothing happened, if he excluded his dream.

He went downstairs and strode into the kitchen.

-Hey Sam- he called out – Do you need my help with the difficult and dangerous task of doing breakf...-

He stopped dead, his brain taking some time to register what his eyes were seeing.

No. That couldn't... No.

The... the stranger looked up from the newspaper he was reading and smiled.

- Hello Dean!- he said cheerfully – How did you sleep?-.

"This isn't happening. I'm still dreaming. Yeah, that's it. It's just an insane, stupid, freakish dream!"

Suddenly Sam appeared in the kitchen.

- Hi Dean- he said lazily.

- Sam! Can you... can you explain what the... – Dean yelled immediately, forgetting his theory and waving frantically towards the man who sat at their kitchen table.

Sam glanced at him: - Oh, hello Dad. You awake yet?-.

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	3. Chapter 3

Dean was left speechless.

They were in a frigging haunted house, with a ghost pretending to be their Dad and Sam acted like that was normal! He was so going to...

Wait, wait, wait. Maybe Sam knew something he didn't. Maybe Dad had somehow escaped from Hell, found them, woke up Sam and explained everything to him. Then his not-so-manly little brother, worried to ruin his so very rare night of sleep, decided to give him the good news in the morning. Yes, it made sense!

He sat down with a sigh and grinned at his Dad.

-So... How did you get out?-.

John Winchester looked confused.

- Get out?-.

- Yeah, from... well... you know...the place down there?-.

- You mean the basement?-.

- No! The place you were sent to when you made the deal. Yellow-eyes? Remember?-.

- Dean, you're not making any sense...-.

- All right! How did you escape from _Hell_?-.

- No swearing, young man!-.

Dean stared at his father like he had slapped him: _no swearing_? John Winchester reproached him for _swearing_? Had he gone nuts?

-Anyway, I think you really need to eat something. Here: I made pancakes-.

Dean simply lost it.

- You made WHAT?-.

John seemed hurt: - I cooked _pancakes_, dear. I thought you liked them-.

The ringtone of his phone upstairs saved him from giving an answer.

- Erm... my phone... gotta go, be back in a minute-.

Backing away, he didn't pay attention to the fact that Sam was right behind him. A second later, Dean and his brother stood there, contemplating Sam's coffee almost completely spilled over the floor.

- Damn! Sorry man, I didn't...-.

He froze. The look Sam gave him would have made Lilith turn and run.

- _You. Spilled. My. Coffee_-.

- Now, now, son- John Winchester said soothely –he surely didn't do it on purpose-.

Dean, surrounded by complete madness, sprinted away.

Once in his room, he reached for his phone and pressed the send button.

- Yeah?-.

- Dean?-.

- Cass! Hey man, how're you...-

- There's no time to talk. Are you alone?-.

- Yes, but what the Hell is going on? There's my father in the kitchen...-.

- Dean, listen to me and listen carefully: that man is not your father, neither your brother is really himself. Don't go near them and don't let them near you. An agent is coming right now to collect you and bring you to a safe place. Then I'll explain you everything. Stay put-.

- What? Cass? Cass! Damn it!-. He flipped his phone closed and barricaded himself in his room.

Who were the two things in the kitchen?, he kept asking himself. Demons? Shapeshifters? And who was this agent?

- Well, well, well- a voice came out of nowhere – So you're the famous Dean Winchester. Uhmm...- short pause – I thought you'd be taller-.

Dean spun around angrily and stopped when he saw no one.

- Where the Hell are you?- he called out.

- Oh, great, just scream a little louder, I'm not sure they heard you- said the voice mockingly – Anyway I'm down there, you moron-.

Dean looked down.


	4. Chapter 4

**Here we are again! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing!**

- You're... you're...-.

- Oh, go on, just say it-.

- You're a CAT!-.

- Well, duh, you're a real observer, aren't you-.

- Please, tell me you aren't the agent sent to get me!-.

- No, I was actually just passing by-.

- ...-.

- Of course I'm the agent, you idiot!-.

- But you're a _cat_!-.

The animal seemed about to retort when somebody started banging on the door, calling out: -Dean. Dean! Is everything okay son? Who are you talking to?-.

The cat stiffened. – Damn! We gotta get out of here. What are you doing?- it hissed to Dean, who was looking at the door with his mouth open – Say something! Quick!-.

- I'm fine!- Dean answered hurriedly – I... ehrm... I was talking to Bobby, he... he thinks there may be a case... somewhere...-.

There was a brief silence; then the door fell down with a loud CRASH!

Sam appeared in the frame, a look of pure hate on his face. – You lied- he informed Dean coldly – You're gonna pay for that-.

- What the Hell!...-.

- Oh, he's going to pay, believe me, only not now. See you guys!- the cat said, jumping on Dean's shoulder and smiling, baring very white, very sharp teeth.

At that very moment, everything vanished.

Dean found himself in a dark place; the little animal jumped off his shoulder and started to shower itself.

Dean didn't know what to think: - Wow. What are you? Some kind of Cheshire cat?-.

- I hope not!- it replied – For your information, I am the best Hell-feline of all the Realm!-.

- You don't say. And where would this realm... Wait, what did you say?-.

The cat shrugged and Dean concentrated on his surroundings.

Black sky? Checked.

Fountains of blood? Checked.

A very huge palace? Checked...

- OH HELL!-.

_Two figures stood still in the now silent bedroom, staring fixedly at the floor. _

_After a few seconds, one muttered: - They're gone-._

_- I can see that- retorted the other – Really, did you have to be so rude? What would poor Dean think about us now?-._

_- He spilled my coffee- the taller one stated – He deserved to suffer!-._

_- My my! Such bad manners! What's with you and coffee, anyway?-._

_The first figure, who had now lost any resemblance to the human called Sam Winchester, sighed: - I love that stuff! Always loved! There's nothing better than a cup of hot, fragrant, delicious coffee. And do you know when was the last time I had such a pleasure?-._

_- No...-._

_The man paused, lost in his own thoughts._

_- 1789- he proclaimed after a while – It was my death-wish-._

_- Your death-wish was a cup of coffee?-._

_The coffee maniac chose to ignore him: - Let's go. He probably wants to know how it went-._

_The other nodded sagely. – Best not to keep Him waiting-._

_They both vanished, leaving behind them a broken door and a pan of still warm pancakes. _

- You!- Dean angrily reached out and picked up the hissing cat – Where did you send me?-.

- Well, in Hell of course-.

- Of course? _Of course_? Are you freaking insane!-.

- Hey, not my fault. Pretty boy said so-.

- Pretty boy? You mean...-.

- Hello Dean-.

He spun around and found Castiel's face a few centimetres from his.

- Er, hello Cass-.

- You seem uneasy-.

- Oh, do I?-.

- As a matter of fact you do. Wait, was that sarcasm?-.

- Very well done Cass!-.

The angel actually looked smug.

Dean wasn't nearly so happy: - Now, first things first, personal space- the angel hastily stepped back, muttering "My apologies" – and secondly, are you gone completely insane? The cat here said that you ordered to bring me here. Is that true?-.

- That seems to be the case, yes-.

Dean blinked. There were a lot of things he wanted to say; "Get out of Cass' body, you bastard!" was high on the list, followed closely by "Why can't you just give a damn straight answer once in a while?".

He chose to remain silent and let the angel explain himself: he could always exorcise him later.

- I'd preferred not to have to do that, but desperate times call for desperate measures, and at the moment Hell is the safest refuge-.

- I see... But aren't demons supposed to be... mmm... our worst enemies?-.

The angel took some time to think about that that before admitting: - Not at the moment-.

- What? Come on!-.

- There's definitely a more dangerous adversary on our way and- Castiel's voice dropped to an incomprehensible whisper.

- Sorry, I didn't get that- Dean said bemusedly.

- Wedeanallncethell-.

- What?-.

- ALL RIGHT! WE MADE AN ALLIANCE WITH HELL!-.

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	5. Chapter 5

There was a moment of absolute silence. Then...

- GET OUT OF CASS' BODY, YOU BASTARD!- Dean yelled, searching himself for the bottle of holy water that he kept in his pocket.

- No Dean, wait, I'm not...- Castiel tried to explain, but it was too late: a cold wave of holy water completely submerged him, soaking his trench-coat -... possessed- .

The hellfeline, confronted by a similar wave of the lethal substance, hurried away with a loud "meeeoow".

- Well, you must definitely have gone crazy, because come on! How could you even _think_ to ally with _Hell_?-.

- Dean- Castiel exclaimed somewhat angrily – Do you really think that I would have done such a thing have I not been absolutely sure that there wasn't any other way?-.

Dean fell silent, because he was still convinced that, after all, Castiel was the sanest angel in the Afterlife.

- So... Why did you bring me here?-.

- To protect you- the angel answered easily.

- All right, but protect me from _what_ exactly?-.

Castiel looked uneasy: - Well, from danger-.

- What kind of danger?- Dean went on, knowing all too well his friend's difficulties with straight answers.

- Uhmmm, you see...-.

- Oh, would you believe it? Dean Winchester!-.

The human and the angel turned at the same time and saw what resembled to a man in his forties, dressed in a stylish black suit and wearing a malicious grin.

- Crowley?- Dean asked uncertainly.

- The one and only. So, Deany boy, you finally joined the party! How're you doing?-.

- I'd be doing better if somebody cared to explain me what's going on!-.

- Oh, sure, why didn't you say it earlier? In the palace there's someone waiting for you: he'll tell you everything you need to know. Go on! I'm just going to exchange a few words with my feathery friend here-.

Crowley waited patiently for Dean to be out of earshot before he started scolding the angel: - What do you think you're doing?-.

- He deserves to know- Castiel answered impassibly.

- _He deserves to know_- Crowley mocked him – And what does "he deserve to know", pray tell? We aren't sure our-self of what there is to know!-.

- But there's a possibility...-.

- That's right, a possibility. And for this mere possibility you want to drop a very hard...-.

- Listen, Crowley...-.

-... very big...-.

- I don't mean...-.

- ... very heavy shoe on poor little Dean's fragile head? Is that what you want?-.

Castiel remained silent for a few seconds and then shook his head.

Crowley smiled widely: - Thought so. Now. Let's see what that stupid mortal has got himself into-.

Dean was worried to death: Cass had made an alliance with Hell and that was already pretty bad. Then Crowley's appearance and his private chat with the angel put him even more on alert and now every kind of alarms were ringing madly in his head. And Crowley's smile! He shouldn't be allowed to smile like that: it was just _creepy_.

Dean entered into the Palace and before he could even think about what he was doing his feet were already carrying him toward his old master office- that is, Alistair's office.

Truth be told, Hell's chief torturer didn't really need an office in the main building: after all, the majority of his day was spent torturing damned souls in the burning planes far away from the center of the city. The only reason that brought him to own a very exclusive parlour with a breath-taking view on the Lake of Fire was _status_. You couldn't be one of the most influential demons in Dis and _not_ have a private office in the Palace, Dean learnt that soon enough.

He also learnt that said influential demons had developed, out of sheer spirit of equality toward the mass evidently, an even more subtle form of torture just for themselves.

The idea was quite simple.

There were lots of demons up on Earth and even more demons down in the Pit ready to commit every kind of mischiefs just to get a bit of power. What if among the incompetent mass there was somebody clever? What if this somebody decided to try to get to the top? Demons aren't exactly what you would define "loyal" and no member of the ruling hierarchy wanted to be stabbed in the back by one of his previous minions. So somebody (no one could recall who) proposed to force said minions every couple of weeks to write a report in which they described what exactly they were up to. This way their boss could discover who was plotting against him with no trouble at all.

The proposal seemed very clever to the members of the Dark Council at the time and was immediately approved. Two minor details escaped them: a) demons, even the less experienced ones, are perfectly able to lie, thank you very much and b) who was supposed to read and check that massive amount of paperwork?

Agreeing that they couldn't trust on that their servants, they decided to do that themselves.

Later, when Lilith came back and took the power, the new management tried to deal with the pointless law by cancelling it, but it was impossible: every decisions made by the Council could be cancelled only by the very same members that took them. Unfortunately, all those demons were now *cough* unavailable.

Therefore, every two weeks the new members of the Council would bury themselves in their office, put the mountain of reports on their desks and... suffer.

Even Alistair, in spite of his best efforts, was forced to do so. That is, until one day, while he was cursing whoever he could think of, his beautiful, brilliant, intelligent and talented apprentice entered into his office. Dean was only carrying a few documents that needed to be approved, but his master looked at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the Universe. In that moment Alistair had a Revelation.

Before Dean could even open his mouth, his master had already forced him on his chair and put a pen in his hand.

"Read these and tell me if there is somebody so stupid to have written down he is plotting against me" Alistair told him cheerfully and left the room, whistling.

From that day on reading the reports was one of Dean's duties, so when Castiel dragged the young human soul out of Hell Alistair had a extra reason to hate the angel.

Dean finally reached his old master's office and, feeling kinda uncomfortable, knocked on the door. Without waiting for an answer, Dean opened the door and, as Alistair some years ago, was struck by a Revelation.

He didn't like it.


	6. Chapter 6

**So sorry for keeping you waiting! Anyway, here we are. Enjoy!**

Dean looked at the ugly scene that stood before him: a little girl with _white eyes_ was happily chattering away while sipping occasionally from a teacup; in front of her was sitting his Dad, or at least he looked like him. He was gripping his cup with so much force that his knuckles were white and he seemed to be in deep pain. When Dean paid attention to what the child was saying, he understood why.

- I mean- she exclaimed, not noticing Dean sudden arrival – He always says that I'm important to him but you can never be sure of what he actually means! What if he considers me important just because he owes me his position? You see, he used to be so passionate, but now he never seems to find any time for me! I know he's working hard, he's Lord of Hell now and, believe me, I know how stressful it is, but I feel left out. What do you think I should do?-.

Looking frantically around (probably to find some kind of weapon or a way to escape the torment), his father spotted him.

He shot up, reached him in two steps and hugged him tightly.

- I'm so happy to see you, son! I thought they'd got you-.

His gentle attitude worried Dean: was he really his father?

After more or less five seconds his Dad released him and started scolding him: - Really Dean how can you have been so careless! You should had sensed immediately that something was off! You should had gone for your gun! Have I taught you nothing?-.

Yep, John Winchester and no mistake.

A little rosy hand tugged at Dean's sleeve. The boy looked down: the tiny girl smiled at him.

- Hello Dean, remember me?-.

Dean concentrated. He concentrated hard. He didn't need to, actually, because he already knew who the child was. He also happened to know that it wasn't possible.

Baffled that the human wasn't answering promptly, the little girl pouted. – What! You mean you don't remember?-.

Seeing that she was on the verge of tears, Dean tried: – Erm... Lilith?-.

The girl – Lilith – smiled widely.

- So you _do_ remember! Oh Dean, I missed you so much, it just wasn't the same down here without you! As I was saying to your father before...-.

- Right right right!- Dean chimed in hurriedly – Now, I don't want to seem indelicate, but weren't you... dead?-.

Lilith's smile wavered a little: - Yes, I was thanks to your _awful_ brother. I know it was my own plan and the only way to free Lucifer, but it wasn't a pleasant experience, quite the contrary! Anyway, I had been dead for quite some time when my love finally got the power, made the ritual, called back my spirit and... here I am!-.

- A ritual?-.

- Yes! You see, when a demon dies his soul isn't completely destroyed but becomes part of Hell itself and can be freed again only by this very ancient ritual. It's very difficult and requires a lot of work, but he did it all for me! All right, not only for me, but I'm happy anyway-.

Dean mentally replayed her words and stopped on a very disturbing particular: - What does it mean "not only for me"?-.

- Oh, you'll be so happy! After all, he was one of you closest friend! I know he missed you so much. He was always saying that if he'd caught Castiel...-.

If Dean had cared to turn around and look at the shadows behind the open door, he'd had seen a black silhouette emerging from the narrow space and starting to walk toward him, while slowly assuming a human form. Unfortunately, the young human was still concentrated on Lilith and by the time he realised that something was wrong, the man-shaped creature had already wrapped a hand around his throat and murmured in his ear: - Hell-o Dean!-.

Dean didn't need to turn around in order to find out who it was, but he did it anyway: years had passed, he shouldn't had been scared anymore! Nevertheless, when he looked into Alistair's white eyes, it felt like nothing had changed, like he would always be his little scared apprentice no matter what he did.

The demon smirked and opened his mouth to say something , but John reacted promptly: he slapped away Alistair's hand, that still rested on Dean's throat, and – Touch my son again and _you_'ll be the one picked apart this time!- he coldly informed the Torturer.

For a second it seemed like the entire world stopped as everybody watched closely the demon's blank face. Then, Lilith sternly reproached him.

- Now now, Alistair, I know you are upset, but gutting John would resolve nothing! Come on, put that razor away-.

In hearing this, John looked down and Dean could tell that even he was surprised when he found Alistair's lethal weapon pressed on his stomach. Nobody except Lilith had noticed anything.

The demon slowly retreated his arm. – Until next time- he murmured, a sick smile gracing his lips.

John seemed about to retort when Castiel and Crowley appeared in the room.

- Oh, hello there- Crowley greeted cheerfully – So happy to see you have already had your little reunion!-.

Dean nearly tried to strangle him in exasperation.

- WILL YOU TELL ME WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?-.

Crowley pondered this.

-Let's see- he thought aloud – how can I express the concept without upsetting your already fragil psyche? Oh, I know! There's going to be a bloody war and we are very likely to lose it-.

**Please, please let me know if you liked it!**


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm sorry, I know I'm terribly late but this time life really got in my way! Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

_The sun was setting in an abandoned graveyard near a God-forgotten city in Wisconsin._

_The last rays of sun lingered on cracked tombstones and on a tall figure that stood under a dying tree, so still it could have been mistaken for a statue. The fact that it wasn't breathing helped to reinforce the illusion._

_A light breeze shook a little the branches: by the time everything went still again, two more man-shaped beings had joined the first._

_- My lord- they both murmured reverently, kneeling behind it._

_- Did everything went according to plan?-it asked idly._

_- Yes, my lord. We made contact with Dean Winchester and after our brief encounter he was transported to Hell-._

_- Fine. How did he look like?-._

_- A bit... older, but that can be fixed easily enough-._

_- Good. You know what to do then-._

_- Yes, my lord- they both answered eagerly._

_The figure continued to stare into the distance, lost in its own thoughts._

_- Yes- it mused aloud – That should buy us some time. At least until I don't figure out something-._

_After another brief silence, it turned around to face its servants: - Go- it told them – and stick to the plan. Keep an eye on Dean Winchester, but be discreet: you must not attract any unwanted attention. We are not ready yet-._

_- As you wish, my lord- the kneeling beings murmured, before vanishing._

_After another blast of wind, the figure was gone as well._

* * *

- A war?- asked Dean.

- That's right-.

- Like Apocalyptic war?-.

- Oh no no no- Crowley answered – Not an Apocalyptic war, this is definitely worse-.

- How?-.

- You see, when the Apocalypse started both armies were fresh, enthusiastic, ready to fight till the end in order to win. Now, I got a scorned bunch of demons that want to just forget everything about what happened in the last months and Castiel's angels are still in the middle of a bloody civil war. Both our forces are diminished, the moral is so low you can stumble on it if you don't pay attention and, if I have to believe to the reports I'm getting, our adversary has at its disposal one of the cruelest and most organized army of all times-.

- Oh. I see-.

- You're taking it incredibly well, if I may say so-.

- Yes, well, the fact is, nothing incredibly strange and utterly terrifying have happened for two weeks: I was getting worried. It's a relief to know that everything is back to normal-.

- I see...-.

- But anyway: war, right? Against _who_ this time?-.

- Oh very good question!- Crowley exclaimed with his creepy cheery smile plastered on his face – We have no idea!-.

Now Dean really looked at him in shock.

- No idea? We're in the middle of a war and you have _no idea_ against who we're going to fight? How is that even possible?-.

Crowley turned toward Castiel: - Your turn, feathers: I'm sure everybody here is dying to know about your little adventure-.

Castiel sighed as everyone instantly looked at him: - Thank you Crowley- he answered in a tone that could have been sarcastic but probably wasn't.

_Castiel slowly patrolled the area, searching for others angels: Raphael had been quiet, too quiet during the last two weeks. He was probably still looking for the secret place where Heaven's weapons were hidden._

_A hour ago, however, he received a report from Camael, one of his most loyal warriors, that said there had been a lot of supernatural activity in this particular place on Earth. Camael wasn't able to tell if any angel was involved, but Castiel decided to go and have a look anyway; if Raphael was plotting against Earth and he did nothing to stop it, Sam and Dean would never forgive him._

_He inspected the abandoned warehouse with great attention: there was certainly a presence of some kind but it didn't seem angelic. Should he take care of that or give the job to a hunter?_

_All his musings were swapped away as a quiet whistle caught his attention: he had less than a fraction of second to realize that the whistle was actually an arrow directed at him. _

_He dodged just in time and the arrow ended up in the wall behind him._

_Castiel gazed into the darkness, trying desperately to detect any movement. Another whistle, another arrow: the angel had barely enough time to move and the arrow caught his shoulder, tearing apart the fabric of his beloved trench coat. _

_Castiel lost his patience then and while reaching for his sword he used his divine light to illuminate the area. Scrutinizing once again the enormous warehouse, his eyes finally stopped on a crouched figure: it was covering its face with its hands, blinded by the sudden light. Castiel literally flew toward the creature, disarming it and pinning it against the wall. He pointed his sword at its heart and forcefully removed its hands: he gasped when he saw that the thing was in fact a man... a man with pitch-black eyes._

_The angel was taken aback: a demon? How? He should had been able to detect it, instead he still felt nothing, like the creature wasn't even there. _

_Suddenly, a scream rang out: - __**Now!**__-._

_Castiel found himself circled by at least seven demons, all wearing human meatsuits: he quickly plunged his sword in the heart of the one pinned on the wall and turned to face the others. He managed to take out two of them before he lost the sword._

_The demons immobilized him and made him turn and face a tall man with a noble posture, probably their leader._

_The man looked at him with disgust: - Well, angel, we have already lost enough time so I want an immediate answer: where is he?-._

_- I don't know what you're talking about...-._

_One of the demons stabbed him with a sharp knife and Castiel had to bite down a cry of pain; when he found that the wound wouldn't mend itself, he felt even more desperate._

_- I won't ask a third time, Heaven-spawn: where is he?-._

_- You can kill me right now, for I have really no idea of what you're talking about-._

_The demon watched him closely for a few seconds, before nodding: - You're not lying, but that changes nothing. You all will be punished-._

_- Shall we kill him now, sir?- asked one of them._

_- No- answered the leader – I want him to deliver a message. You will go to your superiors and tell them that if they don't give back what they took all Heaven will burn. We'll have no mercy. Have I made myself absolutely clear?-._

_Castiel nodded, not trusting his voice. _

_- Good- and then there was none.  
_

- I went back to Heaven- Castiel finished his tale – and made a few questions, but nobody knew a damn thing. The only sure thing is that those demons weren't bluffing: Heaven received a declaration of war hours later my return-.

- So he immediately suspected us- Crowley continued – but we were in the same situation: they didn't even contact us, we just got a war declaration that explained absolutely nothing apart from the fact that they lost somebody and are now accusing us-.

Lilith nodded: - Well, that's understandable, they're probably worried to death and just need to take out their frustration in some way. _I_ know I'll be like that if Crow...-.

- Right!- Crowley interrupted – Any questions?-.

- I have a few but...- Dean said, stealing a glance at Lilith – can I speak to you a moment in private?-.

Crowley arched an eyebrow at that but promptly teleported them in an empty office.

- Thanks. Now, is it just my impression or Lilith is a bit... erm...-.

- Crazier than normal?- suggested Crowley.

- Well, yes. What the hell happened? Not that I'm complaining of course-.

- It's a side effect of the resurrection. It is impossible to piece together a soul just the way it was: something is bound to get lost and sometimes something is added. In Lilith's case, we can say that she's slightly less evil and definitely madder-.

- Hmmm. And in Alistair's case?-.

Crowley shrugged: - Don't know, don't care. I hate the bastard, I resurrected him only because Lilith wanted me to and because he's damn good with a razor. With the incoming war, I'll need all the help I can get-.

- Okay. One last question: where's Sammy?-.

- Beg your pardon?-.

Dean's eyes narrowed: - Sam, Crowley. Where is my brother? I didn't see him with the others-.

- Oh. Is it important?-.

- OF COURSE IT IS!- Dean yelled, mentally kicking himself for not asking earlier but Dad seemed so calm, like everything was alright. Dad wouldn't be calm if Sam was in danger, right? _Right?_

- Hey, don't get so worked up, I was just kidding! Anyway, I don't know where he is precisely, 'cause feathers took care of hiding him, but I know something for sure-.

- And that would be?-.

Crowley flashed his shark smile: - Heaven. He's in Heaven...-.

- CASTIEL!-.

Dean busted into the room, grasped the angel's shoulder's and started to shake him, ignoring Lilith's gasp and Alistair's pleased smile.

- Is it true? You sent Sam in _Heaven_ of all places? Answer me!-.

Castiel broke free from Dean's deadly grip and, putting some distance between himself and the angry hunter, he answered: - Yes, it's true-.

- Are you bloody insane?- Dean yelled – He was Lucifer's vessel and you sent him to Heaven? They're gonna make handbags out of his skin!-.

- It was the safest place. We couldn't certainly keep him here, so near to Lucifer's cage-.

- Why didn't you leave him on Earth?-.

- It wasn't safe enough...-.

- I'm starting to get fed up with this "safe place" thing! Damn it Dad, why didn't you tell me earlier?-.

- First of all, don't you use that tone with me boy!- barked John Winchester.

Dean flushed and muttered a half apology.

- Secondly, the angel's right: the more Sammy's away from Hell the better. I don't like it, but I'll be damned before any of these black-eyed bastards touch my son... Hey, what do you think you're doing?-.

John's eyes burned with fury as they fixed on Alistair, who had sneaked up behind Dean and was now circling his throat with long fingers.

- _First of all_, you didn't say a word about not touching Dean and _secondly_ I'm a white-eyed bastard- Alistair hissed, a grim smile plastered on his lips.

Apparently, what the Torturer gained was a sense of humour.

- Alistair, stop provoking him please- Lilith murmured, watching with concern John's reddening face.

Dean rose his eyes to the skies and sighed, still thinking about his beloved brother.

"I hope Sammy's alright, or else Castiel and I are going to have a very long talk..."

* * *

**_That very moment, in Heaven..._**

Sam Winchester looked at the white wall in front of him and then at the equally pristine walls at his right and left: the room was vast and almost empty, the only furniture being a table, the chair he sat on and the statue of an angel near the white door. The statue blinked. Sam jumped on his chair.

So it was a _real_ angel... And, from the look of it, he wasn't on Earth anymore.

He watched the angel closely: golden, pristine armour, a spear in one hand and a shield in the other and, of course, a pair of glorious white wings. His hair was long and so blond it looked almost white and his eyes were piercing blue. He looked like a Medieval man's idea of an angel.

Sam had so many questions, but he felt somewhat intimidated by those cold eyes; nevertheless, his curiosity took over and he gathered enough courage to speak.

- Excuse me?-.

The angel looked at him but his impassive expression didn't change.

- Can you please tell me where am I?-.

- No- answered the angel, and his eyes went back to the whiteness of the wall.

Sam was taken aback by such a cold reaction, but he didn't give up.

He cleared his throat to catch again the angel's attention and asked: - Can I at least know why am I here? Please?-.

- No- was the stolid answer. Nevertheless, before the angel could ignore him again, Sam went on: - Can I talk to Castiel, then?-.

- No-.

- Why not?-.

- No-.

- You can't answer no to that...-.

Sam fell silent as the angel approached him; the ethereal creature towered on him and, throwing another deadly glance, calmly enunciated: - _No_-.

Sam got the message and shut the hell up while the angel regained his position near the door.

Minutes went by and the silence in the room became so oppressive that Sam felt like screaming: it was like being in one of those tomb-like libraries, where the monotone tick-toc of a clock felt like a thunder, so profound was the silence.

- Can I at least have something to read?-.

Sam wasn't really surprised by the answer.

**Thanks for reading! Remember, reviews are loved!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Hello, here I am again! Sorry if this took so long, but I'm under exam and, let me tell you, life isn't that easy right now! But enough of my complainings, on with the chapter!**

Sam Winchester kept looking at the pristine wall in front of him, tapping absent-mindly his fingers on the surface under the table. He had been sitting there for... he honestly didn't know for how long, but it felt like centuries. He had asked several times to speak with Castiel but the answer was always the same. He was tired, the constant white light was starting to hurt his eyes, he was worried and the angel's silence treatment was really getting to him.

Long story short, he was fed up and ready to get the hell out of there.

- Excuse me?- Sam caught the angel's attention - I was wondering... If I were to walk out of here would that be okay with you?-.

The angel snorted, as if he couldn't believe how stupid Sam was, and then gave the well-known answer.

Sam sighed: - Too bad!-.

He pressed his palm under the table: the angel vanished.

Sam quickly got rid of the blood on his hand and ran to the door: he picked the lock and got out easily enough.

He found him-self in the middle of a long corridor with no doors, except for the one he'd just walked out of; he looked around but the only thing he could see was the apparently endless corridor. He started to move, just to stop immediately, his shoes squicking loudly on the linoleum: he resisted the urge to pull them off and scanned once again the area. Nobody was in sight.

He started runnig then, sprinting across the blinding, straight whiteness of the corridor, in search of a door, a window, even the White Rabbit's tunnel if it could get him out of there.

He finally spotted what could have passed for an emergency exit: he stopped and looked around, his ears straining to hear any sound, any hint that something was wrong and this was a trap. All he got was the sound of silence.

Sam took a few steps towards the door and, when nothing happened, he put his hand flat on the white surface and started pushing. The door opened and Sam found him-self looking at the house he and Dean were renting in the hope of finding out what was wrong with it. On the doorsteps he could still see the bag of donuts he was bringing home for breakfast before the angels got him.

Freedom was one step away.

He was going to take that step. All his body was jumping forward and then...

Everything happened so fast: pain exploded on the side of his head, he felt him-self falling and heard a distant voice cackling "Well, look who we got here!".

Then everything faded to black.

* * *

- Are we agreed then? Any last remark? Anyhing you want to say before shutting up forever?-.

- Why don't _you_ shut up Crowley?-.

- Mind your tone, Johnny! I was just asking you dummies if you understood the plan. Screwing up is definitly NOT an option! Is everything clear?-.

- YES!-.

- Good. Let's get this show on the road!-.

And that was how Operation "What-the-Hell-is-going-on?" began.

* * *

Castiel and Crowley faced the abandoned warehouse in silence, eyes wary and alert.

- Ready?- Crowley finally asked.

The angel nodded solemnly and put a hand on his sword under the trenchcoat.

They got in and looked around; the warehouse was exactly like Castiel remembered it: big, dark and full of old machinery. In spite of the blinding summer sun that shone in the sky, the room was barely lit and quite sinister. Not a sound was heard.

Angel and demon advanced quietly until they reached the center of the room; Castiel spoke up: - Crowley, King of Hell, and Castiel, Angel of the Lord, wish to speak to whoever is in charge-.

Nothing happened.

The angel shook his head, disappointed: - It's futile. They're probably already gone-.

Crowley cleared his voice and: - We've come here to return what we took from you-.

- Well, well, well...-.

Crowley and Castiel spun around: a tall man with pitch-black eyes was coming towards them, accompanied by two minions.

The trio stopped right in front of them: the demon (and Crowley was sure that he'd never seen him before) scrutinized them with a disgusted look on his face.

- Where is he?- he then asked out of the blue.

- Well, you seem to care a lot for... him- Crowley answered, taking time – May we know why?-.

- Don't you play with me!- snarled the tall demon – Answer the damned question _right now_! Or else...-.

The two minions slithered behind the pair with the fastness of a cobra and Crowley and Castiel found them-selves caught in their deadly grip before they could even blink.

- Get off me! You're ruining my suit!- Crowley snarled, trying to break free.

The other fiend looked scandalized: - "Ruining your suit"? What kind of demon worries about a _suit_ in a... tsk! Whatever. One last call before we end your miserable lives: where is the boy?-.

Castiel internally gloat to hear that new piece of information but, from how things were looking, he feared he wouldn't be able to use it. Even Crowley seemed a bit concerned: he looked at their capturer and opened his mouth as to speak; then, his gaze shifted to a spot right behind the fiend and a devilishly grin graced his lips.

- There you are finally!-.

Their capturers had no time to react: one second they were frozen on their spot, stunned by the sudden turn of events; less than a fraction of second later, they lied dead on the ground in a pool of blood.

The third demon, their leader, could just contemplate in astonishment the figure that towered over the corpses of his companions.

Castiel, still unsure of what had just happened, spun around and instantly serrated his teeth in anger.

Alistair smiled back at him, completely covered in blood.

Alistair was having the time of his life: he was alive again, he had back his position and he had just shed a lot of blood (the three demons weren't the only ones in the building; he almost cried out with joy when he found out). True, he was still in debt with that disgusting parvenu for bringing him back ("_You will be back up, Alistair, in case anything goes wrong"_ who the hell does he think he is?) but beside that, things were just peachy. He could also feel Dean in the near proximity, luckily free of his father annoying presence: he hoped there would be time for a little chat later.

He grinned, looking directly at the last demon left: - Now- he told him cheerfully – I'm gonna make you spill your guts: whether this is a metaphor or not, it depends only on you-.

* * *

Dean was definitely NOT having a good time: he and his father had been attacked by a large group of black-eyed bastards and they'd been separated. Crowley's intuition had been right, as much as he hated to admit it: this was the demons' headquarters and was also well protected.

He kept walking, searching for his father, but he could feel that something was wrong: he'd been moving for a while now but he hadn't met any of his companions yet. Okay, the warehouse was pretty big and linked to others smaller buildings but this was really too much! He was almost sure he'd heard Alistair's voice at some point: if only he could find out where it came from...

- DEAN!-.

Dean stopped: it couldn't be...

- DEAN!-.

Dean started to run, following the desperate voice: he reached a door, pushed it opened and froze.

A filthy _demon_ was keeping his little brother pinned on a wall and was evidently torturing him: Sammy's face was contorted with pain and blood poured freely from many wounds.

Burning anger took control of Dean's brain as the monster turned towards him with a grim smile: - Hello there! I was having a bit of fun with your brother. Want to join in?-.

A very small part of Dean's brain, that is the one that hadn't already drowned in fury, murmured that this wasn't possible, that Sam was in Heaven, that something in that scene looked off, like...

Sammy fixed on him desperate eyes and nothing mattered anymore.

- Dean, please... help me...-.

Dean growled and directed his anger to the smirking demon: - I'm gonna kill you!-.

**Let me know what you think of this and thanks for reading!**


	9. Chapter 9

**Exams finished (finally!), back to business! Here we go:**

- If you don't stop hurting my brother I swear I'll...- Dean started to say when the demon, ignoring his threats, opened another gash in Sam's already injured chest. At that point, Dean _did_ shoot him but the fiend simply laughed as the salt made contact with its skin.

"What the hell is he made of?" wondered the little part of Dean's brain that could still think rationally; unfortunately, its biggest part was listening to the demon's words.

- Come on, Deano, you don't need to get so worked up: I have nothing against your brother, I just used him to get your attention. If you do one little thing for me, he's free to go and no harm don... well, no _more_ harm done. What do you say?-.

Dean didn't even stop to consider: Sam had just looked at him with eyes full of unshed tears; his instinct took control.

- All right! What do you want me to do?-.

The last thing he expected at that point was a glass full of some unidentified liquid appearing in his hand: somehow he felt that hellhounds should be involved.

- Drink it- the demon told him – and your brother is free to go-.

Sam tried feebly to protest; Dean hesitated; the fiend lost its patience: - DRINK IT RIGHT NOW DEAN OR YOUR BROTHER DIES!-.

Dean wasted no time and poured the content of the glass down his throat. He then tossed the glass away, paying no attention as it went to crash on the floor.

- Are you satisfied?- he snarled, looking murderously at his brother's captor – I drank it! Now let him go!-.

- Sure thing, Deano! Here he comes!- the demon smirked and launched Sam towards Dean like a discarded doll. Both brothers crashed on the floor near the broken glass; Dean frantically pulled him-self up, Sam's limp body in his arms.

- Sam? Sammy! Are you alright man?- he shouted, voice edging on panic as he received no answer.

- Sammy, please! Answer me!-.

Sam whimpered and forced his eyes opened: he took in his brother's relieved face and directed towards it a well-aimed punch. Dean fell downwards, completely unconscious.

Sam stood up, brushing him-self.

- That went well- he commented.

- Huhu- nodded the demon – How much time before the change manifests?-.

- Just a few minutes. When the potion starts working, nobody will be able to tell them apart-.

- Let's go report, then-.

- Let's-.

* * *

Back at the warehouse, Alistair was completely immersed in his work, as the desperate screams of his prisoner hinted. Said screams also happened to be the reason why Crowley and Castiel couldn't hear a thing of what Lilith was frantically trying to explain to them.

- Dammit Alistair! Cut it off!- Crowley snapped in the end, losing his patience.

The Torturer arched an eyebrow, uncertain of what to do.

- Just stop what you're doing for a second- Crowley elaborated.

Alistair sighed, unwillingly removing his favorite razor from his victim's sternum.

Crowley refocused his attention on Lilith: - Sorry, sweetheart, were you saying?-.

- I can't find Dean anywhere!- she burst out, clinging at Crowley's coat with her little pink hands – I have no idea of where he could be, he's simply gone!-.

Castiel looked horrified and Crowley swore loudly, mostly because John Winchester chose that very moment to come back from his inspection tour.

- What?- John exclaimed, taking in Castiel's and Lilith's distressed expressions.

Crowley was looking for the right choice of words that would soften the human, when Castiel simply had to open his mouth and make it worse.

- We must hurry- urged the angel – Dean is probably in great danger right now. It could be already too late!-.

It took a bit for his words to sink in John's mind but, when they did, he metamorphosed in what monsters all around the world fear to find hiding into their closets: an Angry Winchester.

As predictable, aforementioned Winchester chose to take his anger out on a demon.

- YOU!- he yelled, pointing at Crowley – WHAT DID YOU DO?-.

Crowley sighed: yeah, right, always his fault wasn't it?

- Thank you, feathers- he hissed, glaring at the angel – I didn't do anything- he then said, raising his voice – there was a bit of commotion, that's all-.

- What is the angel talking about, then?- John retorted angrily.

- Oh, he is probably just guessing...-.

- No Crowley, I can't allow that, there will be no more lies- Castiel intervined with passion – Mr. Winchester, there's something we ought to tell you regarding Dean-.

Those words gained Castiel the human's (and the demons') undivided attention; he regretted it.

- Where. Is. My. Son?- John growled, emanating a dark aurea of menace.

- Well- the angel gulped – when I told you about my inquiries in Heaven to find out what was happening I may have... left out a thing or two-.

- _Such as_?-.

- Ehrm, an angel of my Garrison, while spying on those demons, reported that he had heard them saying that they were looking for somebody called Dean and that that somebody was a hunter...-.

Castiel trailed off, waiting for the explosion. It never came. John Winchester remained silent, as if in deep thought.

- It makes no sense- he mused eventually – I mean, why would _demons_ ask him back? Who are they working for?-.

Everybody turned towards Alistair, who was innocently licking away some blood from the back of his hand.

- Yes?- asked the Torturer, a little surprised from all that attention.

- Did you make our prisoner confess who is he working for?- inquiried Crowley suspiciously.

- How?- snapped Alistair – You told me to stop torturing him!-.

- Yes, but...-.

- Boys-.

All the attention was caught by Lilith, whose eyes had turned white.

- Something's in there and it isn't good news- she stated calmly – I think we'd better find Dean as soon as possible-.

* * *

Dean's conscience swum up from the abyss of unconsciousness and hit the surface after what felt like hours: it immediately regretted it. Its whole body was screaming out at it in pain and it was like its insides were burning, lit by an inner fire.

After all, Dean's conscience mused, unconsciousness was probably preferable right now.

It was merging again, when it thought it could hear voices in the background.

- Thanks Hell, I found him! Hey guys, he's here!- a woman was calling. It sounded familiar...

- Is he hurt?- asked another voice, dripping concern.

- I... I don't think so. Dean, sweety, can you hear me?-.

- I think he's unconscious-.

"Damn sure I am!" declared Dean Winchester's conscience, receding once again into the dark.

- Don't worry, baby, it's all over. Now we'll bring you home...-.

**Let me know what you think of this! Thanks for reading!**


	10. Chapter 10

**Wow, this is my longest chapter until now! (Sorry, I needed to say that). It's also the one that worries me the most because now the story really starts to unfold. Hope you will like it! **

Voices accompanied Dean into unconsciousness; a voice lulled him back into the world of the livings. It was a sweet, _oh so sweet_, female voice and it was singing. Dean couldn't clearly make out the words of the song, but he was sure it was a thing of beauty: it made him feel safe. Protected. Loved. Like when _she_ was there.

A wave of nostalgia threatened to drown him and, before he could stop him-self, Dean gasped, overwhelmed by the sudden feeling. Then, all his breath was taken away as a warm, warm hand started to caress his hair, comforting him; the voice never stopped singing.

Dean couldn't resist anymore: he needed to know because maybe, just maybe (_oh, if only_)...

With great carefulness, Dean slit his eyes open: in front of him, sat on a chair, was a woman singing with her eyes closed in concentration. She was in her early thirties, she was blonde, fair and beautiful but she was not _her_.

Dean sighed as burning disappointment filled him; he could only blame him-self, though: after all, he should have known that it was impossible.

The woman probably heard his sigh, because she opened her eyes and stared directly at him: when she saw that he was awake, her lips were stretched into a large, if a bit wavering, smile.

-You're... – she murmured in a trembling voice – You're... you're awake... you truly are...-.

Not knowing what to do, Dean opted to state the obvious: he nodded.

A second later, he was being pulled in a suffocating hug by the woman who, apparently, was stronger than she looked.

-Oh Dean! Dean! I'm so, so happy you woke up! For a moment I thought... I mean, you were so pale and you had a fever and you just weren't moving and... and... Oh, Dean! How do you feel, honey?-.

Dean was desperately trying to gulp down some air: the woman's grip was crashing! He swore he could hear his bones cracking.

The woman seemed to notice too, because she released him and, still sniffing a little, she looked him in the eyes (hers were dark green, very pretty colour if he may say so). It was obvious she was expecting an answer from him.

He was not sure of what to say. It wasn't that he felt bad (he actually hadn't felt this good in a looong time) but... Well, he was spread in a bed in the company of a mysterious woman who had just _hugged_ him and the room he was in... Wait.

He tore his eyes away from the woman and, for the first time, took a good look around: the room was huge, with cream wall-paper covered walls and an expensive-looking parquet on the floor. A golden chandelier lit the room with the soft light of a hundred candles. Heavy, ochre-coloured curtains covered what he supposed was a big French window. The furniture – the armchair the woman sat on, a wardrobe and a desk with matching chair – was wooden and of very good taste.

-Where am I?- slipped out of his mouth even before he realized he had said it.

The woman looked utterly terrified: - You... you don't remember?- she whispered.

Dean shook his head, not knowing what else to do.

The woman took a deep breath and asked in a very thin voice: - Do you remember who I am?-.

Dean hesitated: he looked at her closely and, suddenly, something clicked into place. It was in her expression, in the slight pout that graced her mouth, in the silent plead hidden in her eyes.

-Lilith?-.

The woman smiled and sighed in relief: - Thank Hell! For a moment... never mind. You're home, Dean. Don't you remember it?-.

Home? Uhm, this probably meant he was back in Hell. Still, he couldn't remember how he got there. Let's see, he and his father got separated in the warehouse, he was sure about that, but then...

He sat up as suddenly everything came back to him: the demon, Sammy, the potion... Oh God, the potion!

-What happened?- he asked Lilith, with all the urgency he could convey in two words (he still considered best not to upset her too much).

Lilith sighed again and her eyes became distant: - When we realized you were- her voice wavered – gone, we panicked. We simply didn't know what to do, where to start looking, where could you possibly have gone. We soon reached the conclusion that somebody had taken you away from us and we feared that... Your father was the worst: he was sick with worry, he swore to bring the world to its knees if you weren't found-.

Dean smiled a little at that. Yes, Dad would say such a thing, wouldn't he?

-We started to look for you. We tried _everything_ but it seemed all useless! We were starting to fear the worse when, unexpectedly, we finally got a sign. We were so relieved! At that point me, Crowley and Alistair...Oh!- she clasped a hand to her mouth – Oh no! I forgot! I promised to let them know immediately if you woke up. I can't believe I simply forgot!-.

Dean was about to tell her not to mind, he doubted Crowley and Alistair would care, but Lilith had already run out of the room; she returned after a few seconds, followed by Crowley and Alistair.

-He woke up!- Lilith stated proudly, as if that wasn't obvious enough. He expected the others two demons to point it out and leave; what he most surely didn't expect was a concerned look from Alistair and a relieved smile from Crowley. That was quite a creepy thing; what happened next was utterly terrifying.

Still wearing that strange smile, Crowley advanced until he reached one side of Dean's bed; at that point, he stopped smiling and seemed uncertain; eventually, with a "To Hell with that!", he reached down and pulled Dean into a tight embrace.

Dean stood there, horrified. When he couldn't control him-self anymore, he simply gave up and screamed.

-GET OFF ME!-.

* * *

Three demons, a human and an angel made a quiet exit from the main room of a warehouse, looking for one Dean Winchester...

-I don't understand, I don't feel that energy anymore. I guess it's gone-.

- Let's hope so. This is starting to look like some kind of joke-.

- Shut up, Crowley! This is all your fault!-.

- Now, don't be unfair John! Feathers here isn't exactly innocent either!-.

-I was deceived by your words, o malicious fiend-.

- Hypocrite...-.

- Boys! Boys! Boys! I found him!-.

Three demons, a human and an angel run toward a limp body spread on the floor...

-Dean, son, are you al... Oh god! What the hell happened to him?-.

- I... I don't know John. Surely, he looks a bit... different-.

- A bit different? That's all? He didn't look like that two hours ago, that's for sure!-.

-But he _did_ look like that a... a few years ago, didn't he?-.

-That's. Not. The. Point. Crowley-.

-John is right, honey! We must find out what happened to Dean!-.

-Aaaah...-.

Three demons, a human and an angel jumped in hearing the boy's quiet moan.

-I think he's waking up! Quick, John, come over here: you should be the first one he sees when he opens his eyes. That should calm him down. It would also be a good idea, in my opinion, to say soothing things, like "It's alright son" or "Daddy's here" or...-.

-Enough! You know, Lilith, I think I liked you more when you were a heartless bit...-.

-He's opened his eyes! Come on John!-.

With a worried frown, the human kneeled beside the boy and quietly asked him: - Is everything alright, son?-.

The boy blinked, confusion written all over his face.

-And who are you, pray tell?-.

* * *

Dean sat in his bed, panting; horror, anger, shame, disgust bubbled inside him. Crowley _hugged_ him, for Christ's sake! He was going to need freaking _therapy_ to digest something like that!

Dean glared at the demon, who simply stood there flinching and looking embarrassed.

Lilith was marvelled: -Crowley, dear, what...?-.

-Sorry! I really don't know what possessed me! Must be all that worry. I'm sorry, Dean- said Crowley, turning toward him –I understand that a young man of sixteen wouldn't want to be hugged anymore, too embarrassing of course, but...-.

-What?- Dean interjected.

Crowley was well aware that Dean was looking at him like he'd just said his final goal in life was to bring the peace in the world; he simply couldn't understand why.

-I'm sorry?-.

Dean's eyes were still throwing daggers at him: - A _young man_ of _what_?-.

-Ehrm-.

Damn!, Crowley silently swore, Did I miss a birthday along the way?

Dean stared incredulously at Crowley and then at Lilith and Alistair.

-Have you all gone crazy while I was out?- he finally snapped –I'm thirty-one!-.

It was now Lilith's and Crowley's turn to look at him with incredulous expressions.

-Uh. I guess the shock...- Lilith started to say when Alistair interrupted her.

- I don't think this lad is Dean- he calmly stated. He had been studying the boy for awhile, and everything he saw made that belief grow stronger.

- Are you feeling well, Alistair?- Crowley asked with a half smile – I mean, look at him...-.

-I did- Alistair answered coldly –and I'm sure of what I'm saying. Boy- he addressed Dean –What is your name?-.

-Duh, Dean of course!-.

- Dean _and_?-.

-Oh come on, you know what my name is!-.

-Humour me- retorted Alistair, narrowing his eyes: his patience was already wearing thin.

So was Dean's.

-Dean. Michael. Winchester- he enunciated, raising his chin with defiance.

At that, Alistair smiled triumphantly, while Crowley's expression showed surprise and worry.

Lilith, on the other hand, was not done yet.

-What does Dean stand for?- she asked with urgency.

Dean looked at her uncomprehendingly.

-Eh?-.

-What does your name stand for?- Lilith insisted.

-Dean stands for Dean! What else?-.

In hearing, Lilith's face fell, her shoulders slumped in defeat and her eyes glazed over.

Dean felt a pang of guilt in seeing her reaction, but still couldn't understand what she was on about.

-I mean, what Dean could possibly stand for?- he muttered.

-Draven Endymion Alastor Nimrod- Lilith answered absent-mindly –Dean is an acronym. It was easier that way-.

Dean felt his jaw going slack and his thoughts wriggling out of his mouth in a disorganized flow: - Holy... What the... I mean... Aaargh, who could possibly have a name... names like tha-these?-.

Lilith closed her eyes. Her answer was a painful whisper: - My nephew-.

This time Dean didn't even try to regain control over his mouth; he watched, speechless, as Lilith silently cried while Crowley's arms circled her in a gesture of comfort.

Alistair and Crowley exchanged a glance.

-It seems we've done a little mistake- Alistair commented, somewhat unfazed.

Crowley nodded, lost in his thoughts.

-Yes, well- he muttered after awhile –I don't want to be the one who tells his father-.

**Please, please tell me you liked it! Or, tell me why you hated it. Either way woul be fine!**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm really sorry it took me so much to update, but I had to do my admission test to university (and I passed it! I'm still so giddy!) and I didn't have the time to do much else. I'll try to be faster, I promise! Anyway, enjoy...**

Who are you, pray tell?".

John Winchester looked down at his son with a bewildered expression; funnily enough, the first word that occurred to him to explain Dean's strange behaviour was shock – and, considering that his son now looked like he was sixteen again, John felt it was a _good_ explanation.

Dean was watching him like a hawk, studying his face with clinical attention. In spite of his current predicament, he was calm and collected; then, he spotted Castiel.

John never knew what hit him. Castiel knew it all too well and it took him a great deal of ability to prevent Dean from striking again. The angel was amazed: since when Dean (a simple human, for Father's sake!) was quick and strong enough to harm him?

Dean lounged forward a third time, still too fast to be normal, and Castiel thought best to make him-self invisible until the boy calmed down: he preferred not to have to hurt him, of course.

The sudden disappearance of his opponent made Dean even more furious if possible.

"Where are you?" he bellowed, moving around the room with such a lethal grace that it looked like he was dancing "Where have you gone hiding, you filthy creature? Have you no honour? Come out and face me, felon!".

He spun around... and stopped, locking gaze with the three demons. They didn't even have the time to say "Oh ho" because Dean was already running towards them with that incredible _speed_ and Crowley simply _knew_ that he was going to get a bloody beating in accounting of this being his fault, it was always his fault according to those damned Winchesters and if he thought about all the problems they had been giving him he felt so angry that he couldn't even breath...

He truly couldn't breath.

He opened his eyes – which he hadn't realised he'd closed in first stance – and froze: the boy was hugging him. Dean Winchester was hugging him and smiling as if he reputed that an enjoyable activity.

Sensing Crowley's intense gaze, the boy looked up and somehow made his smile even warmer.

"I'm so glad you're here, uncle!" he breathed, snuggling him up.

Crowley didn't scream nor did he flinch, look surprised or recognize in any other way Dean's words: he simply stood there, peering down at the boy with an expression that gave away absolutely nothing. He was a fairly old demon, well experienced in the complex and cryptic politics of Hell: he started from a very low position in the hierarchy and slowly wormed up his way to the throne. While dealing with moody, treacherous and maniac higher ups, he'd learnt the value of a good poker face. In his humble opinion, a demon who got hugged and called uncle by what was more or less his nemesis and looked surprised was a demon with a very low life expectancy.

"Mmh" Crowley said nonchalantly "It seems to me that things are getting a little confused here. Oh, and boy: I'm most surely _not_ your uncle".

Dean, who had been snuggling Crowley up without shame just a few seconds ago, went suddenly still; he slowly draw back, then, coming to stand in front of the demon.

The boy looked up and Crowley found him-self meeting the eyes of a colleague. Gaze steady and appraising, a veritable wall meant to hide its owner's thoughts from the rest of the world; face calm and collected, the mask of somebody used to move around the world of politics and manipulation.

He couldn't tell where such a young boy had gained that kind of education but one thing he knew for sure: this was not Dean Winchester.

The boy seemed to reach a similar conclusion regarding his supposed "uncle".

"Oh dear" he said quietly "You're truly not him, are you?".

He glanced at Lilith and Alistair, who had stoically remained silent during the bizarre exchange; eventually, a small wry smile graced his lips.

"I must say, you did quite a good job: it completely fooled me! I just hope for your own safety that you're this good in a fight as well because, let me tell you, my Father isn't going to be happy when he finds out what you did".

The three demons didn't speak, they just threw a distract glance at the still unconscious. Crowley could also feel Castiel's nervous breath on his neck as the angel hid behind him.

"What is your name, boy?" Crowley asked, trying to ignore Castiel's surprised gasp. Why did the angel always have to hide behind him he'll never know...

"Why would I tell you that?" the boy retorted, arching an eyebrow suspiciously "Besides, you kidnapped me so you must already know it".

Crowley pondered this.

"Kidnapped, huh?" he mused aloud "That'd explain a lot... You won't tell me your name, then? Sure? Well, I'll make a guess: it's Dean, isn't it?".

Dean gasped in feigned surprise: "Wow, I'm amazed! How did you figure it out?".

Crowley ignored him and went on: "And you are a hunter, aren't you?".

Though his face was not visible to demonstrate that, Castiel had understood the demon's train of thoughts. The boy looked just like Dean, even if a bit younger, had his same name, possibly did the same job... Maybe _he_ was the one the demons were looking for and they might have mistaken the real Dean for... Oh Father!

"A hunter?" the boy asked, this time actually looking surprised "No! I mean, yes, in a sense... Okay, it's all about my first name".

Once again, Crowley's reaction was perfectly controlled.

"Your first name?" he asked politely.

"Yeah, you know, Draven: apparently it means hunter. That was Dad's pick: he's been saying I'm his little hunter since I was five. Alistair says it's a joke, only nobody would explain it to me!".

Crowley nodded, satisfied.

"Okay, I think I know what happened..."

* * *

While Crowley was about to play the role of Holmes in his own little detective story, several miles away Sam Winchester was slowly regaining consciousness. Pain being the first thing he felt (as always), he immediately clenched his head.

-Where I was hit – Sam thought vaguely, before realizing that that probably meant he was a prisoner once again. Keeping that in mind, he tried to ignore the pain in order to concentrate on his surroundings.

It didn't take him long to figure out that he wasn't in Heaven any more, unless the angels had suddenly decided to make it look like a very old, very dirty bare room. Little light filtered through the dusty windows, due largely to the fact that there was a thunderstorm outside and the sky was black as night. On the other hand, maybe it was night... he didn't know how much time had passed while he was unconscious.

Sam got to his feet, already thinking of a way to get the Hell out of there: Dean was probably out of his mind with worry at this point. He needed to let him know that he was alright. Mostly.

Strangely enough (or maybe not that strange if he thought about it) the room had no doors; he studied the windows: they had bars on the exterior but if he...

"_Hello_".

Sam spun around and saw a man leaning casually on a wall. _How did he get in?_

As if reading his mind, the stranger smiled and flashed his eyes black.

"Don't worry" he said politely "I'm not going to hurt you. How's your head?".

"Hurts" Sam answered before he could stop him-self, but it was true.

The demon sighed.

"I feared so. Really, I told Jean to control him-self but he keeps on ignoring me. No need to worry, anyway, we'll fix once you've spoken to Your Lordship".

Sam frowned in confusion.

"Who's Your Lordship?".

The demon opened his mouth to answer but he shut it again as another figure materialized inside the room; at that point, the fiend bowed, murmuring a faint "My Lord".

The newcomer ignored him, fixating his eyes on the human.

Sam froze, refusing to believe what he was seeing.

The stranger smiled.

"Hello Sam".

**As usual, I would love to know if you liked it! And if you didn't, let me know anyway: I'll try to do better! **


	12. Chapter 12

**Sorry if it's a bit short, but it's quite a busy time right now. Anyway, enjoy!**

"Let me get this straight" Dean-not-Draven said, looking between Crowley and Lilith. They were still in Dean... sorry... _Draven_'s bedroom: Lilith had finally calmed down and was being comforted by a strangely nice Crowley while Alistair tried to explain to an incredulous Dean what was going on. He wasn't having much luck.

"Let me get this straight" Dean repeated "What you're saying here is that there is some bloke, who incidentally looks exactly like me and sort of has my same name, and that this guy is Lilith's nephew. Sorry, Lilith's _and_ Crowley's nephew, because apparently they're married and madly in love with each other. And the idea of Crowley being married is already... But anyway, what else... Oh yeah, it seems that I've been de-aged, 'cause I'm sixteen years old again, and that's why when you saw me back at the warehouse you thought I was this Draven and you brought me... sorry, where did you say we are?".

"In our reality, where the whole human race has been exterminated and demons hold the power" Alistair answered coldly.

"Sure. How did that happen, again?".

"We – that is your father, me, Lilith and Crowley- were working to free our Lord from His cage to assist Him in the conquest of your miserable, defenceless world and things were going fairly well: we had all the hordes of Hell in our hands, a cunning plan to put into practice. We were ready to begin when Crowley asked why, since all the hordes of Hell were in our hands and Earth was defenceless, we didn't conquest it by ourself instead of waiting for an ambiguous angel".

Dean stared at him disbelievingly: "And you bought it?".

Alistair smirked evilly: " What can I say, he was very persuasive and we ended up rather liking the idea. If I recall correctly, your father was particularly enthusiastic...".

"Right" Dean interrupted him "My father! I almost forgot that bit, thank you for reminding me! 'Cause apparently my _father_'s not only a demon but also officially the _king_ of all demons".

"And Earth" Alistair added helpfully.

There was a brief silence during which Dean and Alistair looked at each other with fiery eyes; then the human draw in a long breath to calm him-self down and spoke.

"I don't know what you're playing at here" Dean said with a voice that dripped venom "But I surely won't be fooled by this ridiculous story. We should have never trusted you, it was crazy just to think about it! Now I want to talk to my father, the _real_ one thank you very much. Or have you already put him back on your rack?".

Alistair merely arched an eyebrow as answer before smiling sickly.

"My rack?" he whispered "And what do you know about my rack, hmm?".

Dean flinched just a little as memories assaulted him, but even that tiny flick of emotion didn't escape the demon's expert eyes.

"Oh, I see" he murmured sweetly "All fond memories I hope...".

That was the last straw: Dean was so enraged he couldn't speak. Enraged and scared, even if he would never admit it. Here he was, at the mercy of Alistair, Lilith and Crowley who were famous for having no mercy at all. And they had a plan, evidently, and for the life of him he couldn't even start to understand what the hell it was...

He asked to talk to his father, but he knew perfectly that he was probably somewhere being tormented and he truly hoped that Sammy was safe as Castiel promised and what about the angel, was he even alive?

Dean realized with growing panic that he was all alone, utterly and completely alone, just like when he ended up in Hell the first time, and now Lilith was going to have her hell hounds pick him apart and Alistair was going to put him back on the rack and hurt him, hurt him, hurt him and he had nowhere to run and nowhere to hide and and and...

"_Where is my father?_" he asked again, raising his voice until he was almost shouting.

Alistair went rigid.

"Keep your voice down!" the demon hissed, looking at the door.

"NO!" and now Dean was screaming, completely in panic "I WANT TO SEE MY FATHER! NOW!".

Alistair glared at him in cold fury.

"Listen, you stupid brat, if he hears you...".

"Dean...".

The voice was little more than a whisper but it silenced Alistair, making him look again at the door. Dean followed his gaze, hopefully, but...

It was a man in his early forties, dressed in an elegant if slightly strange black suit that exalted his pale complexion. His hair was a faded blond edging on white.

His eyes were twin pools of yellow light.

**Hope you liked it! Please review!**


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